


Banya

by djsoliloquy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Temperature Play, trace kinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 23:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djsoliloquy/pseuds/djsoliloquy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been bitterly cold outside. The skies clear, the trees cracking from the water freezing inside them, and before they went into the sauna Russia had turned to him and smiled and said <i>savor it</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Banya

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a request for Russia and America experiencing the hot, sweaty, mostly-nude joys of the [banya](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Banya_\(sauna\)), a Russian sauna house.

It had been bitterly cold outside. The skies clear, the trees cracking from the water freezing inside them, and before they went into the sauna Russia had turned to him and smiled and said _savor it._  

“So I—” America swallows hard around the heated weight of the air. “I thought you were joking. Being sarcastic.”

“I was not,” Russia says somewhere above him. It sounds like he’s still smiling. The prick. “You have never done anything like this before?”

“Well, sweat lodges and stuff, but…” But this is different somehow. And it really bugs America that he can’t figure out  _why_. It’s hard to think with the heat, though. It’s hard to do much of anything with the heat. It takes all his willpower to remain motionless on the wooden bench and just  _maintain_.

“I’m just gonna step out for a second,” he says, arm edging over the side of the bench.

“No,” says Russia, and he hits America with the branch thing again.

America wilts. It’s hard to squabble effectively with a straight no, at least in this heat. “It's not fair. How come you can still function? How hot is it in here?”

It comes out slurred and mumbled together. Russia pauses with the leaves massaging over America’s skin. “It really would not help if you knew, America.”

“Didn’t ask if it would help.”

“Then I will tell you after.”

America tries to open his eyes. The muscles over his cheekbones twitch but they remain closed.  “I want to know now, though.”

“Don’t be a child. It is worse if you watch the thermometer,” Russia says, and starts passing the switch across America’s back and legs again. Russia told him what it was for but it just makes America feel like he’s being put through a car wash. His skin trembles under the light, almost playful strokes, and it’s sort of nice. If America stopped to give it a serious thought, he'd probably say it was pleasant. He can feel himself opening with each pass, like his nerves are slowly unfurling in the heat. 

“You’ve been getting more hit-happy with that thing since we started,” America observes.

“I am being very gentle, believe me,” Russia replies, and the laugh finally breaks free of his words. “Savor this, too.”

“Didn’t say I didn’t _like_ it,” America says, but he gasps suddenly and his eyes fly open in shock when Russia settles a bare hand between his shoulders. He pushes himself off his stomach and they stare at each other. “You’re cold,” America says, eyes wide now. He’s light-headed as his movements catch up to him, it’s hard to concentrate with—God, the  _heat_ , it’s hard to concentrate, and he left his glasses out with their clothes so everything’s blurry anyway. “How are you not burning up?”

Russia stares at him. “Do you remember walking along the lake to get here?”

“Yeah?” America says. He reaches up to adjust the silly hat and his damp hair sticks alongside of his face. “So?”

“Would you say it was very warm outside?” says Russia, eyebrow pitched as he waits for America’s reply.

America rolls his eyes. “Come on, I know you’re cold, but  _you’re_  cold too!” He grabs Russia’s hands and molds them around his neck and it’s, oh  _fuck_ it’s— “Oh yeah,” he says. Moans. It just kind of comes out but America doesn't care. His eyes flutter shut with pleasure and he pulls Russia in by the arms, feeling how far in it goes. “All over, God why didn’t you say something, you bastard…”

“Where to begin,” Russia sighs, but allows his arms to be positioned around America, hands splayed across his back. America presses his face against Russia’s chest, first one side and then the other, trying to get as much skin touching as possible and they end up falling back on the bench. Russia probably isn’t all that cold, but compared to the banya he’s something close to heaven.

“Wow. Oh God, you feel amazing,” America says with little gasps of joy. He clings like a barnacle when Russia tries to pry him off. “Actually, can we just... yeah, I’m not... I'm not really done. Sorry.”

They rest in silence for a minute or so. Russia gingerly rubs America's back.  “This is awkward, America.”

“I know," America says. “I'm really sorry. I'll let go the second the heat is less than the embarrassment, I promise.”

“And I thought you would be happy for this part,” Russia says in his quietly teasing voice. America’s head flops back on the bench when Russia manages to peel him off. He watches Russia step into the middle of the room and turn to remove the wrap around his waist. “Are you ready?”

America stares as Russia’s towel flops to the floor. “Um. Ready for what?”

“ _Do_ you remember walking along the lake to get here?” Russia asks. He waits by the door, looking over his shoulder. “Did you notice anything about the lake?”

America blinks. “I don’t know, there was snow over it? And there was a… big hole cut in the ice? Oh.  _Oh_ ,” he says, and Russia smiles at him. He rolls off the bench and trips forward until he's beside Russia at the door. “Oh hell yeah I like this part. Do we need shoes? Or anything?” Russia’s fingers flick out and America’s wrap slips to the ground. “Or, um. Hi.”

Russia slowly inhales, a deep cleansing breath. “We don’t need anything. Unless you would  _like_ shoes? If you would rather stand in the snow and wait for me, that is also fine.”

“Okay, no,” America says, laughing and shaking his head. “Let's get one thing straight. I'm not afraid of jumping in a little cold water, alright? You don't need to go all patronizing to convince me to jump in that lake. Because I am _doing_ this. Sometime soon. Any day now. Whenever you’re ready,” he says, clenching his fists as Russia takes his sweet time on another breath. “Something you know that I don’t? That I maybe should? Because it looks like you're just barely holding in a good chuckle and it’s probably at my expense.”

“I know the temperature outside.”

“Hey, you know, whatever. I’m ready when you are, big guy.” America claps his hands together. “Let’s do this thing. I know you probably can't feel the full force of it, but it is  _ridiculously hot_ in here.”

Russia grips the handle. Just before the door opens, he turns to America, smiles, and says, “Savor it.”


End file.
